Also, when a reference was going on, and the room full of lawyers and
witnesses, and business driving fast, some deeply-occupied legal
gentleman present, seeing Bartleby wholly unemployed, would request him
to run round to his (the legal gentleman’s) office and fetch some
papers for him. Thereupon, Bartleby would tranquilly decline, and yet
remain idle as before. Then the lawyer would give a great stare, and
turn to me. And what could I say? At last I was made aware that all
through the circle of my professional acquaintance, a whisper of wonder
was running round, having reference to the strange creature I kept at
my office. This worried me very much. And as the idea came upon me of
his possibly turning out a long-lived man, and keep occupying my
chambers, and denying my authority; and perplexing my visitors; and
scandalizing my professional reputation; and casting a general gloom
over the premises; keeping soul and body together to the last upon his
savings (for doubtless he spent but half a dime a day), and in the end
perhaps outlive me, and claim possession of my office by right of his
perpetual occupancy: as all these dark anticipations crowded upon me
more and more, and my friends continually intruded their relentless
remarks upon the apparition in my room; a great change was wrought in
me. I resolved to gather all my faculties together, and forever rid me
of this intolerable incubus.
Ere revolving any complicated project, however, adapted to this end, I
first simply suggested to Bartleby the propriety of his permanent
departure. In a calm and serious tone, I commanded the idea to his
careful and mature consideration. But, having taken three days to
meditate upon it, he apprised me, that his original determination
remained the same; in short, that he still preferred to abide with me.
What shall I do? I now said to myself, buttoning up my coat to the last
button. What shall I do? what ought I to do? what does conscience say I
_should_ do with this man, or, rather, ghost. Rid myself of him, I
must; go, he shall. But how? You will not thrust him, the poor, pale,
passive mortal—you will not thrust such a helpless creature out of your
door? you will not dishonor yourself by such cruelty? No, I will not, I
cannot do that. Rather would I let him live and die here, and then
mason up his remains in the wall. What, then, will you do? For all your
coaxing, he will not budge. Bribes he leaves under your own
paper-weight on your table; in short, it is quite plain that he prefers
to cling to you.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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